


well wishes

by lentranced



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27529474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lentranced/pseuds/lentranced
Summary: from up above, where the sunlight still reached, the bottom of the well didn't seem so far below.and the goddess knew sylvain saw his brother as his hero.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Miklan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	well wishes

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @ macedon_prince :)

Brothers played together.

This was another one of those games, no matter how biting the cold air was getting. Sylvain had convinced himself of this a hundred times now, perhaps more.

He wasn’t supposed to call out, or else the monsters would hear him. 

There weren’t any real monsters, of course, just pretend ones. Miklan had looked him in the eyes when he had said this, and Sylvain had believed his brother.

He had been here for so long that he couldn’t really process it anymore. Aside from the growing pain his stomach and the changing color of the sky above, there was really no indication of how much time had passed since then.

He had been on the other side some time ago. The sky was now a speck of purple hanging over his head.

Soon enough, Miklan would look down at him. Toss a rope and help his brother climb back to the top.

He _was_ his brother, after all.

From up above, where the sunlight still reached, the bottom of the well didn't seem so far below. It _seemed_ bottomless, certainly, but as Sylvain had climbed over the edge, he only had two thoughts on his mind.

One, that it didn't matter how far the well went, because his brother would pull him back out.

And two, the way his fingernails dug into his brother's hands as Sylvain stood over the mouth of the well, careening like the shadow of a crow etched into the light of a dying star.

"It's cold, Miklan," Sylvain had said. The cool air kissed his cheeks, sending his ginger hair brushing into his eyes.

"Of course it's cold." Miklan's voice was softer than the grass of Gautier estate. "There's no sunlight down there."

The chilly air caught in Sylvain's nostrils. His feet, bare and dusty, sent a few stray stones scattering down into the well.

And then, step by step, inch by inch, feet against the cold and grimy stone, he had joined them.

“I’m here!” Sylvain had yelled, hands cupped around his mouth. His voice echoed around him, but his smile didn’t make it to his brother, he figured. It was too dark down here, he was too far away.

Miklan didn’t even look back.

Sylvain hummed to himself, idly kicking the water pooled by his feet. This was an old well, Miklan had said. One that nobody used anymore.

The maids wouldn’t think to check it. The perfect hiding spot.

Miklan’s smile as he’d said this didn’t quite reach his eyes, but when did it ever, Sylvain thought.

He didn’t entertain the thought for very long. His stomach was distracting him again.

“Keep quiet down there,” Miklan had advised him, pressing a rosy finger to Sylvain’s lips for emphasis. “It’ll be more fun that way. When I come back with the rope, you can start yelling.”

That made enough sense to Sylvain. It would be like a storybook, where the hero rescues his sidekick from certain doom.

And the goddess knew Sylvain saw his brother as his hero.

But now it was getting dark, and the cold air was nipping at his knuckles. Sylvain sniffled, wiping at his nose.

He looked up again, the sky a shade darker, like a dying fire. Opening his mouth, he licked his dry and cold lips.

The first time he said it, it came out like the chirp of a baby bird. Soft, helpless – perhaps more helpless than he would have liked – and dependant.

Helpless, even. He hadn’t thought this far. The inside of Sylvain's stomach seemed to roll over on itself with the weight of a wet stone.

He just knew that the one undisputed fact of this all was his brother’s return.

But the well seemed to be eating him. As the minutes turned to hours and crickets began to chirp, Sylvain felt like there was not much of him left.

He had entered the well with more than he had now. More of _himself_.

“Miklan? Miklan!”

Nobody on the other side. Sylvain’s nails scraped against the stone surrounding him as he dropped to his knees, the puddles hugging his cold bones.

Night had come.

Miklan had not.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this fic, i hope to update it soon!


End file.
